Now They Know
by venice m
Summary: One kiss changes everything. Secrets are revealed. A family's foundation is shaken. AU. Alice/Bella. All human.


Hello everyone. This is my second fanfic and my first time writing a story centered around an Alice/Bella pairing. This story was inspired by a creative writing assignment that I had recently done and I decided to turn it into a fanfic. This is intended to be a one-shot.

Stephenie Meyer owns _Twilight_ and all the characters.

Reviews and criticism are welcomed and appreciated. I hope you all enjoy the story :)

I am reluctant to open the letter that lies on my lap. Unsealing it can change everything. Or it can change nothing. Alice and I are sitting in my bedroom on a sunny June afternoon. Usually we would be outside in the park across the street from her house. But today, we are at my house, eager to read this letter. My hands set on the edge of the bed, balled into fists. My eyes wander around the room, but they avoid looking down at the object on my legs. The walls of my room are painted purple, my favorite color. Lined along the walls are two mahogany drawers. One tall, one short. Placed on them are vases of daffodils I picked from the garden yesterday, parts of my continuously growing rock collection, most of my earrings, bracelets I bought from the flea market last month, and pictures of me throughout the years. My favorite picture is the one where I was five years old. I was wearing blue overalls and a white top underneath. Brown curls framed my ice cream smeared face. I sported a bright grin, minus one tooth, while I held my vanilla ice cream cone in my hands. I was a happy, carefree, five year old. But today, I am an eighteen year old who cannot bring herself to open a flimsy envelope. Alice's foot nudges my leg and she makes me notice her. She starts tapping that same foot and she holds her arm out and taps her wrist with the other hand. I give her a small smile then stare at my unorganized closet across the room.

"Well can you open it already? I wanna know!" she says as she pushes me playfully. I sway with the force of the push and let out a small laugh. I grab the letter and slap her thigh with it with a smirk. She lets out a fake, offended gasp and then pinches my arm. I move my arm all over the place, trying to get it away from her painful, pinching fingers. Both of us are giggling. I give her leg a light kick and she finally stops pursuing my arm.

"Patience is a virtue," I say, shaking my letter at her with each word. She rolls her eyes, folds her arms together, stares me down. I mimic her movements and stare her down. Her button nose scrunches up with the force of her pretend scowl. But her green eyes show amusement. The black waves of her hair glisten in the sunlight peaking through my small window. She has all her hair over one shoulder. I always love seeing it that way. She tries to look tough, but everything about her is glowing. My heartbeat speeds up and my skin tingles. I have a very strong urge to smile, but I fight it. Then she hits me one of her cute pouts. I turn my head away and I laugh. I heave a dramatic sigh and start to tear at the envelope. She smiles and moves closer to me, resting her chin on my shoulder. I open the envelope with shaky hands and read the paper inside. Lynn lets out a scream and tackles me with a hug. I look at the letter with a huge, goofy smile on my face.

"I can't believe it. I got in." I whisper to myself. Alice then attacks my cheek with kisses and I giggle and hug her back. We had found out that Alice got into to the same university a week ago. We are going college together, just like we planned. I hugged her tighter as I placed my face in the crook of her neck. The lavender scent of her perfume washed over me. It makes me feel high. And so does she. She breaks the hug and leans back to she can look at me. She puts her hand to my face and brushes it against my cheek lovingly.

"I am so proud of you," she whispers to me while gazing into my eyes. I smile back at her and lean close to her. She brushes her nose against mine. Her skin is so soft. She then places her lips against mine and kisses me gently. I then kiss her and put my arms around her neck. She kisses me again, this time more passionately. I feel consumed and surrounded by her. In this moment, everything is serene and perfect. A loud metallic clang breaks our kiss. We move apart to see my mother. She has dropped her gardening shovel on the floor. She stands there in shock, with a horrified look in her face.

I was scared to leave the room. I know everything will be different once I step through that door. It was almost evening now. Alice had left with my encouragement. Her staying would only make things worse. Hours had passed since I have seen my mother. I don't want to go see her. I want to stay here. My room is my safe haven. I take a shallow sigh and slowly place myself to sit on my bed. It was made up with purple and white flower patterned sheets and adorned with ten pillows. I sleep with all ten of them. I like the feeling of being surrounded. It is comforting to me. I crawl on to my bed and nest myself between all the pillows. I hold one close to my chest and bury my face in another. I wish Alice was here. She would know how to console me. I peak across at my clock on the other side of the room. I can't see the time. The room is too dim. It is getting dark and the sun was setting. Night is approaching. I have to come out of my room at some point. And if I don't go her, she will come to me. I push myself off my bed with shaky hands. My palms are sweaty. My eyes are set on my bedroom door. I am reluctant to open it, as my mind tells me to wait five more minutes. But I can't. So I reach for the door and slowly turn the knob. The usual aroma of meatloaf that would hit me at this time of the evening on a Tuesday night didn't. Mom didn't start cooking. I start walking down the hall at a slow pace. The hallway appears to become narrower as I make my way to the front of the kitchen. I see my mom sitting at the dinner table. She almost fit in perfectly with her surroundings. The quaint area has green and yellow stripped wallpaper with old, but sturdy appliances. The vanilla tinted counter tops accentuate the cream colored tile floor. The beige dinner table lined with a daisy colored linen table cloth matched the shade of my mother's sun dress. Most of her honey brown hair was tucked neatly into a bun, while she had one stray curl that came down to her chest. On her chest laid a small cross. Usually she would be busying herself around the kitchen. But tonight, she was not. She is still. Her eyes focus only in one direction. She is staring out the window. Her gaze distant. I quietly step further into the kitchen, not wanting to disturb the trance she seemed to be in.

"How long have you been that way?" she asks quietly. I jump a little at the sound of her voice. I didn't think she sensed me. It sounded raspy, as if she had been crying. I stare at the back of her head with wide eyes. I gulp then let out a shaky breath.

"I have known since I was 12," I reply softly. I see her shoulders rise as she takes a deep breath. She falls silent again and continues to stare out of the window at the evening sky.

"How long," she asks again. "How long with that girl?" Her voice cracks when she says the word girl. I let out a small gasp. I squeeze my hands into fists again, willing myself to catch my breath so I can speak. I take another deep gulp of air then gradually let it out. I dig my fingers into my palms.

"We have been together since I was 15" I say, my voice still quiet. I see my mother's shoulders rise up again. She raises her head for a few seconds then shakes it and lowers it into one of her hands. Her position is now slightly hunched over and I see her body tremble. I hear sniffling, a signal of tears. I feel my heart drop as I hear my mother crying. My stomach churns with great unease and I feel my chest tighten. My throat constricts as my own tears threaten to spill out. I never wanted to cause my mother pain. That's why I felt it was responsibility to hide it. And I failed.

"How could you do this Bella?" my mother groans out, her voice trembling from her tears. "We didn't raise you like this. It is a sin." I couldn't open my mouth to refute her statement. Only sobs would come out if I did. My lips tremble as I try to hold them together. My tears spill over and I wipe them away quickly, grateful that my mother was still not facing me. The scrape of the dark brown oak chair cuts the silence in the room. My mother gets up and starts to pace in front of her chair while she shakes her head back and forth. Then she stops and looks at me.

"We can fix it. We can get you help. Everything will be fine" she says while she nods her head and smiles a little. She then starts to busy herself around the kitchen by taking out the cutting board and some carrots and celery to chop up. I stare at her in disbelief. I huff and shake my head. I loosen my mouth. I can't keep quiet now.

"No!" I blurted out. "This isn't something that can be fixed! I am the way that I am, and that's it!" My mother drops the knife she has just taken out of one of the drawers onto the counter and hurries over to me. She grabs my arms in a tight hold and I am forced to look. Her eyes are wide and filled with fresh tears. Her face is stained with red splotches around her eyes and tear trail marks. I have never seen my mother this frantic.

"Don't do that!" She cries out. "Don't think that way! Don't make the same mistake I did!"She is still for a second. Then her eyes grow larger as she steps back from me hastily. She knows she has said too much and cannot take her words back. I stand there, not able to move, baffled by what she just said. I stare at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She slowly takes her hand away from her mouth and sighs and turns her head away. She looks around at the floor, as if she is searching for an answer. She looks up, but does not face me. Her expression is now blank and her jaw line hard.

"You are getting help. And that's final" she whispers before she swiftly makes her way out of the kitchen, abandoning the half-chopped celery and carrots.

After I finally gained the ability to move out of my spot in the kitchen, I slowly walked down the hall to my room. I closed the door and leaned my back against it. I stare down at the ground. In my head, I am running through all the possibilities. I try to think of the things that could have been there. Anything that could have possibly warned me of this. But I think of nothing. After few more minutes of thinking, I hear my name being yelled. It is my father's voice. I don't want to leave my room again. But I force my feet to move and make my way to the living room. I see my father sitting in his favorite chair. It is a chocolate brown recliner. On most evenings, he is sprawled out in his chair with the remote in one hand and a beer in the other. But today, he sits up, hunched over. He looks down at the vanilla carpet. His expression serious. He has come from work not too long ago. He still has the coat of his police uniform on. I stay glued to the entrance, feeling the urge to run back to my bed and bury myself in my pillows.

"I told him," my mother breaks the silence. She is sitting on the white and hazelnut checkered loveseat that is against the back wall of the living room, to the left of my father's chair. I don't know how to feel about her right now. One part of me wants to scream at her for hiding this from me and trying to change me. Another part of me wants to comfort her and tell her that it is okay and she doesn't have to hide anymore. I can sympathize with her because I know what it is like to hide such a big secret for a long amount of time.

"Sit," my dad tells me. His tone is soft, yet authoritative. I do as he says, not wanting to make him upset. My father can be very intimidating when he wants to be. He stands at 6'3, with muscular broad shoulders and a mean grimace. He has to have that demeanor to be a cop. But his soft, warm brown eyes always give away the fact that he has a kind heart. I have never had a confrontation or a big disagreement with him. I have a feeling that is going to change now. He sighs deeply and runs his hand through his short, brunette curls.

"Why Bella? How?" he asks me. He sounds exasperated.

"I don't know," I say, my voice shaky. "It is just who I am."

"Stop saying that!" my mother blurts out, her eyes shiny with tears.

"But it's true," my voice gets louder. I feel myself sliding closer to the edge of the couch I am huffing out short breaths and my eyes are narrowed, focused on her.

"Enough," my dad says in a commanding tone. I slide back in my seat. "Jerry had this problem with his son. Sent him to a camp called Camp Jericho. The boy was one for three months. Seems long. But he came back clean and cured. You can go there for the rest of the summer."

"No!" I shout, shooting out of my seat. "I am not going!" My whole body is shaking and my eyes look fiercely at him.

"Oh darling, will you please calm down," my mother says to me."There is nothing to be afraid of. Everything will be fine." I turn my gaze to her and my nostrils flare.

"I am not the one who is afraid." I grit out. My mother's neck stiffens, as if she is restraining herself.

"Don't talk to your mother in that tone," my father tells me, his voice now slightly elevated.

"Why shouldn't I?" I scream. My mouth is loose. "She is a hypocrite! She is trying to make me go through the same thing that she did!" My father looks at me, his face scrunched up and his mouth slightly open. I realize that he didn't know. I now feel heavy. All my energy has left me and I plop back into my seat. He turns to my mother.

"Renee, what is she talking about?" he asks her quietly. He looks at her as if he is searching for the answer on her body. My mother looks back at him with wide eye. Water runs down her face as he lips tremble.

"I'm not gay Charlie. I am not attracted to women anymore," she whispers.

"Anymore?!" He bellows out at her. My mother jumps in fright and starts to cry harder. I feel tears start to form in my eyes. My father takes a deep breath and grabs his hair with both of his hands. He throws them down and sighs. He looks at mother and shakes his head. Then he swallows and looks away from her. Before he storms out of the house, I get a glimpse of his eyes. The soft, warm, brown orbs are leaking and stained with red. With the slam of the door my mother cries out and sobs hysterically as she runs to her room. I am left in the living room. Alone. Tears are trailing down my face. My guts twist and turn. I think I just tore my family apart.


End file.
